almost there, but not quite
by heywildflower
Summary: They are still dancing around each other, in the way the shy, uncertain butterflies of newfound love make you do. Takes place on the herd's first night on the new island, after Continental Drift ends.


a/n: hello ^^ here is another short-ish diego/shira piece. this started from me thinking about some random possible dialogue between them, and it kind of just spiraled from there. thank you for stopping by and i hope you enjoy this one!

disclaimer: i do not own _Ice Age_.

ps.: thank you so so much for the reviews on my first two fics! it means a lot to me and it warms my heart knowing that what i've written made someone happy. thank you so much again!

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_almost there, but not quite_

—

It'd started with Granny—her loud, conspicuous snore had cut Sid and his recount of the great plan to sail home off. Then Peaches had nodded drowsily and Manny had yawned, agreeing with the sloth matriarch's decision to call it a night. The story was saved for later and the campfire snuffed out, leaving only the faint moonlight to illuminate the walls of the roomy cave the herd had decided to call their new home.

Calls of _good night_ lovingly echo around the cave as each member shuffles around for a comfortable spot—Granny in a low, cosy hole in one side of the cave, and Manny on the other side, with Sid leaned up against him.

Ellie has gone outside to look for a comfortable tree while Peaches, Crash and Eddie wait inside, all three already on the verge of dozing off. There are two remaining herd members who are still awake and have yet to move from their spots in front of the campfire.

Diego and Shira are still dancing around each other in the way the shy, uncertain butterflies of newfound love make you do, so when Diego lies down on an empty spot a little way off from Manny, Shira follows suit. She tentatively settles down beside Diego—but not _beside_ beside—

There's a deliberate distance between them; they're kind of close, but not quite. Both see it, but both are far too shy to say anything about it.

"'night, you two," Ellie says, eyeing said distance with an amused look as she comes back to fetch her daughter and brothers. The opossums end up on her back, sleeping soundly. Peaches gives a small wave with her trunk as she follows her mother outside.

"'night, El. Sweet dreams, Peach."

"Good night," Shira adds quietly. The words sound almost foreign on her tongue; _good night_'s and _sweet dreams_' weren't things that pirates usually do. The herd was a far cry from her life out at sea—though also a mismatched group of animals, but this group was bonded by something far deeper and more lasting than order and authority; revolving around a warm campfire, on a warm summer night, basking in the warmth of…of a family.

Shira's heart aches—there was so much she'd have to get used to; so much that she hadn't even known she was missing.

But she doesn't miss the small but brilliant grin that Peaches sends in her direction, and the sabress nods back with a hesitant smile of her own before the teenaged mammoth disappears out of the cave entirely.

"You okay so far?" Diego asks. His voice is low and comforting; Shira's breathing becomes softer, the pensive look on her face melting into a more delicate smile.

"Yeah," she replies softly, but they both can tell she's unconvinced (he is, too). Sheepishly, Shira changes her mind.

"No…not really. A…a lot has changed."

Diego gazes at her gently as she thinks aloud.

"You were my enemy a few days ago. I was still a pirate a few days ago."

_I'd never known all of this a few days ago_. Shira keeps that thought inside her mind.

"Now…I'm no longer one and you…you're not, either. I'm—but—I think I'm happy, about that."

He finds her slight fumbling with that last bit cute. Diego hides a smile at that, and Shira hides the gentle flush of rosiness that she knows has appeared on her face. Both are suddenly grateful for the cover of darkness.

"Things are moving too fast," she continues with a wane smile and a laugh so soft you would have missed it had the night not been so still. Granny's snoring has thankfully quietened; outside, a breeze tiptoes through the forest and the leaves rustle; the whispers of cricket song floats quietly out from the long grass.

Tonight, the sky is black tranquility, luminous with gentle starlight. It had come as a reward of sorts, a softness that calls the being to rest after the whirlwind of things earlier—the battle, the victory, an ending and now…a beginning.

She _has_ been through a lot. A half-chuckle escapes from the orange-furred sabre as he shifts to meet her eyes.

"Anything I can do to slow it down?"

At that, her heartbeat begins to pick up its pace. _You're not really helping, are you?_ she thinks.

Ocean-blue meets hazel-green and the contact is held for a little longer than necessary. Each thought the other had the most beautiful eyes they had ever seen.

_You're staring_, her mind chides. His eyes are open and honest, holding years of deep-seated emotions that she wants to help him untangle. There's something about his gaze that she has never found elsewhere—a delicate warmth, strength and safety; a strange kind of gentleness, as if the beauty of early spring had somehow been captured in his eyes.

_You're staring_, he thinks too. Eyes are the window to the soul, and in hers, it amazes him to see the strong yet gentle essence that has endured every storm she was made to brave. To him, her eyes sparkled from the inside out; if it were anyone else he'd drop his gaze, but with her he was drawn closer to her stardust soul, wanting to know more.

_You're staring_, and with a faint blush dusting her face, Shira looks away. Her heart is leaping in her chest now—but for the first time in many nights, not because of fear or worry or the constant unease that she'd done something wrong and would have to answer to Gutt.

Warmth and emotion rushes into her heart; for the first time in a long while, Shira feels as if she's found a home, a stronghold, a place that she can run to when the winds become harsh.

She's found that not just in him, but in all of them, really. This…this _herd_, in peaceful slumber around her, who'd welcomed her with warm smiles and shining eyes, without a care to the fact that they'd just met, or that she had been on the opposite side before—she was part of their family now, and _they had each other's backs_.

But…it was really all because of him.

Her mind and heart suddenly brim with so many things she wants to tell him, but all the words end up caught in her throat.

How does she start? _Where_ does she start? Who is he, even, to her? An ally…a friend? Family…or…_or_—

Everything that she'd carefully left unsaid—the _you've brought me out of this_'s and the _I'm happy I met you_'s and even the nerve-wracking whisper of a _I think I'm in love with you_—

No, now _that_ is moving too fast. Too soon. They…they aren't there..._yet_.

Shira's face is much warmer than before.

She finds herself staring at him again, while getting lost in a maze of her own hesitation and everything that she didn't say.

_I'm happy that you're here—I'm happy that_ I'm _here_. He led her to realise just how much she had been missing—how lost she'd been all this time. In a moment of bravery, she had known what she wanted—not any more part in Gutt's crew—but, even now, a proper, complete life still felt out of reach. The fear that this new chapter may not be the beautiful _different_ she was hoping for still loomed.

After all, that same hope was what compelled the young sabress, then escaping from an abusive pack, to accept Gutt's offer to join his crew in the first place.

This time though, it felt different in all the right ways, but she can't be sure. She doesn't _know_ this herd yet. She doesn't _know him _yet. The silver-furred sabress still has things to learn and to let go of, trauma to heal from and bridges to build with these new faces; they still looked on each other as strangers.

It's a start, but she's still nowhere near where she'd like to be.

_But you...you already feel almost like home. _Things may be changing too quickly, but the two of them have all this time to slowly figure them out.

_And they've changed...because you showed up._

"What is it?" Diego asks, his eyes searching hers with concern.

_I've got so much to thank you for._

It hits her then.

"...thank you." The words slip out of her mouth in a murmur.

He hears her voice tremble with emotion and watches her eyes glisten with tears, and remembers the storm, the days lost at sea, the cliff face where she bravely let him go—let _them_ go, and bore Gutt's wrath for them.

Falling short, not doing enough—Diego has always been afraid of that, and he has Soto to thank for it. Not living up to standard, failing to carry out his pack leader's plans—and how his entire worth seemed to hinge entirely on that. It was what hollowed him out, it was what drove him away from the herd thinking that he'd lost his edge, and it was what came back to haunt him when he saw her struggling to pick herself up as the two ships met in the waters of the old continent earlier.

Manny and Sid had taught him to simply come as he was. But just because he was freed from the pack, didn't mean that every wound of his was healed after that.

_I didn't do enough. I wanted to get you away from Gutt—but you still ended up getting hurt. _

_I didn't do enough then. So, from now on, next time—God forbid there'd be a_ next time, _but at least,_ _from here on_—

"I'll be there, anytime," Diego says without thinking, but then he realises that it wouldn't have mattered if he had thought it through or not, because either way he had meant each word with all of his being.

"And—and I meant it this time. I…would prefer it if you _don't _drop dead."

Diego can't help but laugh then; the playful lilt in her voice is hard to miss, and their tree cell exchange that night is hard to forget.

"I'm serious!" Shira reaches out to swat him with a paw. She's trying to keep a stoic face but her eyes, alight with mirth, betray her completely.

His laughter subsides, and her paw comes to rest near his—almost touching. Diego's eyes find hers again, and he decides that he wants her to be happy, to have that light remain in her eyes, her soul, _her_.

"I'm serious too," he says. _Because from now on_—"I'll be there...even when you _do_ want me to drop dead."

It's her turn to laugh gently, and for a moment, Shira loses a bit of the tightness in her chest. His words give her hope, but this time it is real, sincere, almost tangible. And hope feels good. There are still things to learn and to let go of, but she wants to try. He makes her want to try.

They're gravitating towards each other—they _have_ gravitated towards each other in the past few moments. Shira decides she wants to be closer to him and shifts to ever-so-slightly narrow the space between them, and Diego stretches out his paws towards her. They are pulled towards each other, and though both are still hesitating, it wasn't like they were doing a good job of resisting it.

_No, no, no—you guys are dead wrong_. How the tides have turned, Diego thinks wryly as he remembers his particularly unconvincing denial from that fateful night. Things really did seem to move quickly.

But across from him, a soft smile flutters onto Shira's face, and he decides that things might seem to be moving too fast, but they were falling into the right places and filling the right gaps—perhaps not quite there yet, but soon, all of their broken pieces would come together and they'll be right where they both wanted to be.

—

The island is a silhouette against a now bluish sky as the first rays of the sun begin to peek out from behind the horizon. Though the sky is still dark, and the world still largely silent, a few early birds have already awoken to welcome the very beginning of the new day.

With each passing moment, the sky begins to lose its cover of darkness as the emerging sunrise brightens the morning haze. And when the daylight comes and rouses Ellie, ever the early riser, she allows herself a moment to admire their new home illuminated by the gentle early sunlight, before heading into the cave to wake her family. She finds Diego and Shira still sleeping, still with distance in between their bodies.

Only now, Shira's paw is curved towards Diego's and Diego's paw is inches from hers, as if they had fallen asleep wanting to hold on to each other—almost there, but not quite, for the two sabres are still shyly dancing around each other, in the way love—new and uncertain, but full of hope anyway, the kind that is just beginning to bud—makes you do.

—

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a/n: as always, thank you so much for reading!


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